Where She Is
by RavingBabbit
Summary: Skip Beat! Cover Challenge. Home is...


Disclaimer: I don't own Skip Beat.

A/N: Skip Beat! Cover Challenge. Volume 4.

Premise: Home is…

* * *

**Where She Is**

His combat boots were spic and span; not a pin or badge was out of place. As command gave him an unexpected early leave, he had flown straight home pretty much off the battlefield to see her.

What was she doing at home? Going by the time, she was most likely cleaning up after dinner, or getting ready for bed. Maybe, he hoped, she was _only_ wearing his only flannel shirt to wash their clothes. The last time he'd caught her doing laundry had been a very good homecoming.

Whatever it was she was doing, it was sure to make him smile.

About half a block from their building, he switched off his headlights to roll sleekly into their parking spot. All was planned, all was well, and all was sneaky. He removed his boots to avoid their clomping sound, and also because she was liable to smack him if he wore his shoes inside—never mind being able to see his sly grin reflected on their clean surface.

Then finally finally FINALLY weeks after being deployed to work, Tsuruga Ren stepped over his threshold. She wasn't in the living room or kitchen. Despite Ren's hopes, she wasn't in the laundry area.

There was a moment of unfounded panic that she would be nowhere in their apartment—the space cleaned and void of her belongings. Too many of his co-workers were haunted by their divorces. Normally Ren was unaffected by their personal lives, but he had spent an inordinate amount of time without her bullying him into a healthy meal. On his breaks he took to rooting through pictures of jewelry, despite Kyoko's assurances that his commitment, plain and simple, made her content to live with him.

"Besides," she pointed out. "We'd have to take our rings off all the time."

He knew she was inside tonight; he could feel it. Then Ren perked because, by process of elimination, she must be in the shower or in their bed. His boyish merriment reasserted itself.

Their bedroom door was open and the light was on. He was relieved to catch her awake, knowing what a busy little soul she was. He crooked his hat rakishly one last time, yanked his blazer straight one last time, and posed impressively at her door.

Out came his cell phone to capture her reaction.

Kyoko was _much _prettier than what memory and Skype captured. And probably the camera feature on his phone—the sort of gadget that most people mortgaged their houses to buy.

By trick of the light or trick of his emotions, Kyoko was all lit up from the rosy nightie he'd bought for her in Korea, to her short dyed hair, and to her unmade skin. Only the swell of her breasts and the dips where her legs curled were shaded in.

Her face was especially luminescent, even though she was crying. Ren dropped the phone and immediately went to her. This was a step under the catastrophe of her moving out. She had the chunky bit of colorful glass in her hands which she dubbed "Corn."

"What's wrong honey? I'm home now." He lapsed into his private name for her.

Ren regretted the decision to show off his costume to her. The unyielding sturdiness of his military garb might have saved him some nasty scrapes if he were to serve his country, but he couldn't feel Kyoko with anything but his hands no matter how close he had her.

A detached part of him—the part that watched people's behavior to unlock his own actions before the camera crew—stowed away this insight for his soldier role. He had a lot of insights around Kyoko.

"It doesn't work anymore," Kyoko hiccuped, letting go of the rock to hold on to Ren. "I think I broooke it."

"What made you sad in the first place?" Ren asked, although he was beginning to understand.

He listened in earnest as she burbled an explanation of her day on set and eating leftovers and having terrible sleeping posture. Only Ren could have extracted any relevant facts from her incoherent and non-cohesive jargon.

From what he could tell, she missed him a hell of a lot more than what he gave her credit for.

Acting in romantic dramas exposed her tender feelings for him. By the time she was in her right mind again, she'd start missing him too much to taste her food. Then she'd go to bed thinking of him, unable to sleep easily because her body rolled out of bed trying to snuggle him.

Kyoko sat up abruptly and noticed that he was dressed for combat.

"I get taken prisoner tomorrow," Ren said, really cheerful that she was miserable too if he spent too much time out of their house. He was secretly as pathetic when she was filming on another island, minus the eating.

"That's fantastic Ren! Are you having fun?"

She chirped inquisitively at him as he grabbed her wrists and drew them over her head onto the pillow. Her bare skin was lightly scratched from his uniform.

"Let's say I take _you _prisoner, and you figure out how much fun I'm having."

"Ah, um," she faltered, going red. "Have mercy."

"Why?" he grinned, already caressing her through her nightie. "It's more fun not to."

* * *

"Tsuruga-kun! Tsuruga-kun! What are you doing? We're on right now."

"Sorry, sorry. Won't happen again, sempai." Ren peeked one last time at the wallpaper on his phone. He'd been pulled in by that face of hers again, struck dumb that he had evidence that she wasn't going anywhere without him any time soon.

With or without her picture, it was going to be a long year.


End file.
